


On Day at a Time

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-15
Updated: 2007-11-15
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: #7 in The Fountain of Youth Series. Mallory and Teak must save the day when Daniel comes to the conclusion he is soley responsible for the loss of the baseball trophy.





	On Day at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

On Day at a Time

 

“Hey, sir.” Carter thumps a bag of groceries down on the counter in the kitchen. “Where’s Daniel? I didn’t see him in the sandbox.”

“Thought we agreed to drop the sir around here, Carter. He’s asleep in the living room.”

She swirls around to look at me, both eyebrows shooting to the hairline. “Is he okay?”

“I think so.” I pour a bag of chocolate chips into the batter. “If he doesn’t get up again pretty soon, I figured I’d wake him up.” To tell the truth, I am a little worried. Frasier keeps telling me it’s perfectly normal, he’s going to sleep a lot for awhile longer. She says its part of the body’s natural healing process, especially in little kids. We are, after all, only three days post hospital stay and only nine days post appendicitis. 

I’m thinking I must have been getting Daniel’s drugs by osmosis or something. There is no earthly way I could have pulled off this BBQ this afternoon, even with Carter and Teal’c’s help. It’s a damn good thing Athelia jumped in when I opened my big mouth. 

“Hoping the smell of cookies will lure him from sleep?” Carter asks with a grin. “You’re going to an awful lot of trouble, don’t you think, just to wake him up?” 

“I figured we needed to contribute something for this shindig this afternoon. Kills two birds with one stone.” I start banging cupboard doors in search of cookie sheets. “What happened to Teal’c?” 

“He’s burying a couple of new things in the sandbox for Daniel, those little pots from P8X-246.”

“He managed to smuggle some out?” Nope, not in that cupboard. Or the next one, or the next one.

Carter, who’s resumed putting groceries in the fridge, looks over her shoulder at me. “He bartered for them, sir.”

I give her the hairy eyeball; it’s a look I’ve learned from Daniel. “Drop the sir, Carter and that’s an order. What are you shoving in my refrigerator?” I know they’re not over the sink, maybe over the fridge?

“Orange juice, milk, some of that tahini Daniel likes and some fruit. Problem?”

“Just wondering why you’re filling up my fridge?”

“Well, we’ve been eating here quite a bit lately, seems only fair we contribute – Colonel.”

Ha! Found them. “Okay, but you know it’s not necessary, right?” They make a lot of noise as I dump them on the counter. “And Carter, can we come up with an acceptable alternative to sir or Colonel?”

“I don’t think so. O’Neill just doesn’t sound right and I can’t wrap my tongue around Jack, sir. I think it would be best if we left it at Colonel. And yes, we know it’s not necessary.”

I sigh and shrug. “Fine, I’m not gonna argue about it, but Jack’s fine, Major.”

“How often do you call me Sam?”

“More often than you call me Jack,” I smirk at her, pulling out the flatware drawer to find a soup spoon to measure out cookie dough.

“Want me to do that?”

“No, but you can help if you want. Here,” I shove a cookie sheet across the counter and plunk the bowl of dough down between us. “Get your own spoon.”

“You think he’s ready for this afternoon?”

“Honestly? I wish I hadn’t jumped in and offered to do this quite so soon. I’m thinking if Napoleon II gets wind of this, I’m gonna be in deep shit.”

“Who’s going to tell her?”

“Daniel. When she asks for a report on what he’s been doing. We see her again on Monday, post check-up kind of thing.”

“Tell him not to tell her.”

“And exactly what do you think I’m teaching him by telling him to lie to her?”

“How bad do you want to stay out of trouble?”

“Considering it's Mallek . . .” I trail off

I hear stirring in the living room about the time the cookies start to smell. Daniel wanders up the steps, finger in his mouth, rubbing the side of his head. “Hi, Sam. When did you get here?” he wants to know, around the finger. He sniffs appreciatively as he wraps an arm around my leg and leans against me. “How come you didn’t wake me up?” 

We’re back to ‘I need an adult constantly in touching range’. Frasier says that’s not unusual either. 

“Is Teal’c here too?

“Yep.” Carter swoops down to kiss him on the nose. “Hey, you feeling okay?” 

“I’m fine.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “See what I mean? I don’t need to be reinforcing that.”

“Still tired?” Carter asks, handing him a spatula. “As soon as the cookies cool a little you can take them off the pan, okay?”

He frowns and returns the spatula. “I don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Carter takes it back and we exchange surprised looks over his head.

“Want some lunch, Sport?” A little more worried here. “Janet and Cassie are coming aren’t they?” 

“They’re on their way.”

“How ‘bout some macaroni?” It’s the current comfort food of choice. Macaroni and cheese, who’d have thought.

He shakes his head. “Not hungry.”

We did eat a late breakfast this morning and while he’s eating better than before this whole appendicitis thing, he still hasn’t gotten his appetite back. “How about some of that chocolate stuff?” 

Doc’s been pushing Ensure, it’s loaded with calories and fortified with all those vitamins and minerals he’s not getting since he’s not eating.

He shakes his head again. “Hey, Jack?” The finger comes out of his mouth and he pulls back to look up at me, then tugs my hand and stretches up on tiptoe. He cups a hand around the side of his mouth as I bend down so he can whisper in my ear. “Can we give Sam her flowers now?”

“Sure, if you want.”

Ahhh, now we’ve got some animation. The eyes are sparkling and a flush of color brightens his cheeks. He’s been pale and subdued for so long I almost lost track of my hyperactive, always-in-overdrive kid. We’ve spent a lot of time on the sofa or in the recliner over the past three days, watching movies, or TV, sometimes reading, sometimes just snuggling while we both sleep. 

I’m about slept out. Never imagined that would happen in this job. We’re always sleep deprived. Not that there is any day or night down in the bowels of the Mountain, but Gate travel does tend to wreak havoc on your internal time clock. 

It suited our adult Daniel to a tee; his circadian rhythms were so out of whack it wasn’t even funny.

“Can I go get them?”

“Need help?”

“Huh uh.” He shakes his head, lets go of my leg, and trots out of the kitchen, face bright with anticipation. “Sam, you have to go back outside,” he informs her over his shoulder. “Go sit on the deck.”

She looks at me and I shrug. “I just like to think I’m in charge,” I offer genially, motioning her out the sliding glass doors. “This won’t take long.”

I see Teal’c join her on the deck, rubbing sand off his hands and hear the rumble of his voice, but the words are indistinguishable as Carter closes the door. He sits down on the picnic bench across from the chair she takes.

“Finding everything okay, Sport?”

“Got the first four,” Daniel calls, coming out of my bedroom, fingers poked deep into the soil of four small, potted miniature roses. “Did Sam go outside?”

“Yep, Teal’c’s out there too.”

Daniel stops in the middle of the hall, frowning. “I forgot to tell her to close her eyes. Can I just bring them into the kitchen and then she can come back inside?”

“Good idea. Sure you don’t want some help?”

“No, I want to do this.”

“Okay. I’ll go entertain.” I close the sliding glass door as I step onto the deck.

Carter and Teal’c are discussing our newest civilian team member, Mark Adler. This is number six in five months. The first two quit the SGC completely, the next one got himself killed our second mission out and the last two . . . well, Teal’c said the last two were impressionists. 

“. . . He’s lasted longer than Renoir and Monet combined,” Carter is saying.

Teal’c’s also the one who’s supplied the nicknames. I think he’s been reading up on impressionist painters. He pronounced both performances _‘inferior impersonations of person’s desiring to be soldiers, not to mention archeologists/linguists’._

Don’t ask me how he connected impressionist with impersonations. I only know how his mind works some of the time. 

“Hardly a record,” I offer dryly, “since neither of them lasted more than a couple of weeks.”

“Did you invite Mark?” Carter wants to know.

“I casually mentioned a get-together over here this afternoon. Was I supposed to actually invite him?”

“I suppose we should have, after all he is part of SG-1 now.”

“I believe Captainadler will be moving along soon,” Teal’c imparts, though how he knows I have no idea. Hammond only told me this morning on the phone.

“Has he requested a transfer?”

“You look surprised, Carter.” I glance over my shoulder and see Daniel lugging another batch of roses into the kitchen.

“He has? I thought he was doing pretty well.”

“I think that last run to the Gate did him in.”

“But he wasn’t hurt badly . . .” Carter trails off.

“Perhaps it was difficult to run on a broken ankle,” Teal’c offers, without even a hint of a smirk.

“I wrapped it up and put his boot back on. It should have been fine to get him to the Gate, besides, Teal’c, you were half carrying him.”

“I do not believe he enjoyed the experience, Majorcarter.”

“Well, unless one of you invited him, I doubt he’ll show up. I wasn’t overly enthusiastic when I told him to come over if he wanted. Plus, I got the impression he’s not real excited about kids, so I made sure to tell him there were going to be at least two dozen here this afternoon. Daniel?” I slide open the door and stick my head inside. “You ready yet?”

“Just about.” He shoots a grin my way and disappears back down the hall. 

“Is that cookies I smell?”

“Oh shit! Stay, Carter, he’s not ready for you yet.” 

The cookies are just beginning to brown so they’re salvageable. They won’t be nice and soft like Daniel likes them, but I’m sure they’ll still get eaten, even if they are a little crispy. 

And I get to watch him at work on his creation.

We were looking at flowers in the grocery store the other day, thinking about those flowers for Carter, when Daniel spotted some miniature rosebushes. They looked a little worse for wear, but he wanted flowers that would last, not die like the ones we pick when we go over to Charlie’s grave. 

And since we’d talked about a dozen roses Daniel wasn’t going to settle for anything less than a dozen plants. So we detoured by our local Home Depot on the way home. Then it was a debate over whether we bought all the same color, just two or three colors, or one or two of every color they had. It ended up at least two of every color they had and we tried to pick ones currently blooming. 

Arranged artistically on the kitchen table are a dozen tiny rose bushes, barely taller than the span of my hand, in a sort of a Christmas tree shape with the red blooms at the top of the tree, shading to an orangeish color, then pink, yellow, a very pale green and finally white. He’s now standing on a chair sprinkling confetti he saved from his birthday party over top of the whole creation. Which, did I mention, is crowned with a bottle of Cristal that cost about as much as it costs to open the Stargate. All right, maybe not quite that much, but almost.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Daniel announces, dusting off his hands over top of the flowers, then straightening to study the effect. 

“Want me to get Carter?”

He debates for a minute. “No,” he says, hopping down off the chair and pushing it in. “I want to get her.” 

It’s zero to sixty in under a nano second as he hits the glass doors with both hands, grabs the handle and heaves it open. The doors are heavy and he usually has trouble with them. Just now he’s supercharged, but he wisely leaves the door open and I hear him instruct Carter on appropriate comportment.

“Okay, Sam, this is just for you, but you have to close your eyes and let me lead you.” There is a moment of silence and I leave the cookies to watch. “Give me your hand,” he directs. “Now stand up.” He waits a second when she wobbles a little bit from standing up too fast with her eyes closed. “Okay, it’s just a few steps to the door.” I open it wider so he doesn’t have to fight with it and they can come through together. “Step up now,” Daniel instructs. “This way, we’re going into the kitchen. Are you peeking?”

“Not peeking,” Carter says, raising her eyebrows as she chuckles softly. 

“You can come too, Teal’c,” Daniel yells over his shoulder.

Teal’c unfolds himself from the picnic bench. “I was uncertain if my presence would conflict with your intentions, Danieljackson. Thank you for inviting me.”

“No one ever gets left behind here,” Daniel replies seriously, hauling Carter to a stop so he can grab Teal’c’s hand too. He pulls them both toward the table before letting go of Teal’c to minutely adjust one of the roses.

He lets go of Carter’s hand too in order to climb back up on the chair. “Okay . . . NOW!” he shouts deafeningly. “Do you like them?” he wants to know immediately. “Aren’t they pretty? And we’re going to help you plant them all! Do you like it, Sam? Do you?”

For a minute Carter just stands staring at the display, then her hands come up, splayed out in something like wonder. “For me?” she says, like she never receives gifts. “It’s not my birthday.” She looks from Daniel, who’s going to fall off the chair any minute because he’s dancing, to me, and grabs Daniel by the arm just as he loses his balance. 

“Because you helped us when I was sick,” Daniel explains, grabbing her shoulder reflexively. He doesn’t stop dancing, just keeps hold of her shoulder. “Do you like it,” he asks again, grinning from ear to ear.

“They’re beautiful, Daniel. But – I don’t understand.” She looks at me again. “We were all just doing what needed to be done.”

“Carter, I fell apart and you pulled our asses outta the fire. What you did for us was special. We just wanted to say thank you.”

She opens her mouth . . . closes it . . . opens it . . . and then the tears start. Just a trickle at first. I suspect she’s remembering how close we came to losing him - again. The trickle quickly turns into a small flood.

Daniel freaks. “Don’t cry, Sam. Don’t cry, please. If you don’t like it we’ll take them back. Please don’t cry.” He swipes his palm at her cheek in an effort to stem the tears.

Carter swoops him up and buries her face in his neck. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I love them, these are happy tears. I’m so thankful you’re getting well and these are beautiful. Sorry, sir.” She sniffs back more tears, raises her head to swipe the back of her own hand at the moisture. “I love them, Daniel. They’re beautiful, but you have to know, Sport, I don’t need this kind of thanks. I love you. I would do anything for you. All of you . . . you know. You guys are my family. Anything,” she repeats, biting her lip. “And I don’t need thanks for it. Ever.”

“I love you too, Sam,” Daniel says fiercely, hugging her hard. “Come here, Jack,” he commands. “Teal’c.” He beckons us both imperiously. “Family moment.” He leans back in Carter’s arms, snags me by the shirt, Teal’c by the wrist, and tries to pull us both closer to Carter. “Come on, everybody has to hug.” And when Teal’c and I don’t immediately comply, even more commandingly, “All together; all at once.”

For a moment we’re a tangle of limbs and torsos with Daniel squashed in the middle of us. 

He sighs hugely. “I just remembered my mom and dad used to do that with me sometimes.”

Carter’s still wiping away tears as she shifts Daniel around to a hip and starts picking up the flowers one at a time, looking at the little tag stuck in the soil with the name of the rose. 

“You like the green ones?” Daniel asks. He wrinkles his nose. “We weren’t sure about green roses, but Jack said they were different, so we bought two of them. I hope you like them.”

“They’re very different and I like them very much. I like them all.” Carter puts down the flower in her hand and gives Daniel another squeeze. 

“Which one do you like best?” he wants to know next.

“Oh . . . I don’t know. It’s hard to pick one I like best from all of these, they’re all so beautiful. I do know exactly where I’m going to plant them.”

“Don’t forget, we’re going to come and help plant too.”

“It’s a deal. Maybe we could do it tomorrow?” She looks to me for confirmation.

“Sure, we don’t have any plans. I figured we might need a day to recuperate after the hoard this afternoon.”

“Teal’c?” She looks over her shoulder. “You want to come help plant too? I’ll fix us supper.”

“Have your culinary skills improved since your previous encounter with kitchen appliances, Majorcarter?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “I deliberately did not say I’d make us supper. Wow, Cristal.” The bottle gets smacked to her chest as it starts to slip through her fingers. “Whoops, that would have been a wicked waste of champagne. This costs the Earth, sir. You two really went all out.”

“Is it a kind you like, Sam?” Daniel runs his finger over the label. “We got it off the internet, it came all the way from France.”

Daniel’s got nothing on Carter when it comes to eyes and hers pop now. Wide open. “No way.”

“Does that mean she likes it?” Daniel asks, twisting in her arms to look at me. Carter quickly deposits the bottle back on the table in order to adjust her arm load of seven-year-old archeologist. 

“Don’t do that,” she warns, “I might drop you instead of the Cristal.”

Daniel just laughs. 

“That reminds me, I was supposed to ask you something. Do you suppose it’s theoretically possible for two distinctly different time lines to intersect and merge into one?”

Carter looks up from examining one of the green rose bushes. “What do you mean? Are you thinking about Daniel’s time lines? ‘Cause if you are, sir, you need to keep in mind that Daniel’s time line was already screwed up before this happened to him, what with all the times he died, not to mention ascending and descending, and the alternate realities he was in. I don’t know, sss . . . Colonel, but I’d have to say with Daniel, anything’s possible.”

“So then it is a definite possibility?”

“From what we’ve experienced over the last seven or eight years, I’ve come to believe what we consider reality is a lot more fluid than most of us even like to imagine, Colonel.” She shrugs. “For myself, I’ve come to the conclusion anything’s possible, sss . . . sir.” She shrugs again, rolling her eyes this time. “I’m sorry, that habit’s just too ingrained.”

“What’s in-grain’d?” Daniel inquires.

“It means I’ve been doing something for so long it’s worn a groove in my brain my tongue just won’t skip over.”

“Huh? How can your tongue skip over a groove in your brain?”

“Ya, Carter, how can your tongue skip over a groove in your brain?”

“What I was trying to say, Daniel, is I’ve been calling my superior officers, sir, for all of my adult life. When you’ve established a pattern like that, it’s very hard to change the pattern unless you’re concentrating all the time on making the change. Plus, at work I still have to refer to Jack as sir when I speak to him. It’s very difficult trying to remember to call him something else when it’s just us.”

“You know what,” I interrupt, thinking she’s gonna wind up to go at this for the next twenty minutes, although Daniel looks like he’s hanging on every word. “Why don’t we just forget it and I’ll answer to whatever you call me. Good enough?”

Her mouth snaps shut. “Good enough, sir.” 

I grin, give her a thumbs up, and a saunter back over to the now thoroughly cooled cookies. 

“What happens if it’s a lady Colonel?” Daniel asks.

Carter chuckles and I glance back over my shoulder to see her tickle him. He giggles in response, an infectious sound so unlike anything we ever heard from our adult Daniel that we all smile, even Teal’c.

“Unfortunately, Dr. Jackson, I’ve never had a commanding officer who was a lady.”

“Bet you’ve had a few women though,” I can’t help ribbing.

Carter laughs outright. “No, Colonel, I’ve never had a woman as a commanding officer. There are very few women in the field of theoretical astrophysics, sad to say. I’ve worked mostly with men.”

“Did that disadvantage impair you ability to function at your usual high standards, Majorcarter?”

“Naturally, Teal’c,” Carter laughs again. “They could never keep up with me.”

“As I suspected,” he offers, with that little inclination of the head that can mean anything from I admire you greatly, to I’m laughing up the sleeve of this xxx-large t-shirt I’m wearing. “I believe we should convey your gift back to its original location, Majorcarter. It may not be safe on display out here when the entire baseball team, plus their fans, arrive.”

“They came out of the shower in my bathroom. Do me a favor? Try not to spread the confetti between here and the bedroom.”

“Put me down, Sam, I want to help.”

“Confetti?” Carter says, eyeing the roses again. “Oh, that’s what the sparkly things are. Daniel, I thought you were saving that for something special.”

“This was the something special I was saving it for.”

I hear his feet hit the floor and wonder randomly when he’s going to hit a growth spurt. He’s still so small it’s no sweat for any of us to carry him. The pediatrician says he’s on the low end of the average scale, I shouldn’t worry about his height and weight. But he’s still wearing the clothes we bought six months ago and while I try not to de-well on it, as Daniel says, I occasionally worry the effects of that damn Fountain of Youth thingy are permanent. 

That he’s not going to grow anymore. 

Carter doesn’t think so. Frasier does a whole battery of tests every six or eight weeks and she says the same thing. I’m coming to terms with the thought that we may not get back our adult Daniel anytime soon, but to have him stuck this way for the rest of his life? 

Cute as he is, that’s just not acceptable. We damn well better get back an adult Daniel, even if takes another fifteen years. 

I do have to say, this whole thing has given me a new appreciation for why it took us years to get adult Daniel into clothes that fit properly. He’s between sizes so nothing fits. I swear most of the time he looks like a refugee child. And he flatly refuses to try anything on at the store, so we have to haul everything home, then take it back if it doesn’t fit. Which is most stuff. And let me tell you, his penchant for plaid? It was one of those things he was born with.

“Yoohoo! Anybody home? Your front door is unlocked, did you know?” Paige, trailing CoriAnne, sails into the kitchen, interrupting my musings. “Something smells good. Oooo, who made cookies? Sam? I love chocolate chips cookies.”

I wonder if she makes a habit of trying everybody’s front door before she rings the bell or if we’re just special.

“Not me.” Carter seizes an armload of flowers. “I don’t do cooking.”

I whip my head around as I hear Teal’c murmur something that sounds suspiciously like ‘thank God’; however, he only raises an eyebrow as he too picks up an armload of flowers and proceeds to follow Carter out of the kitchen. 

“Need some help?” Paige calls after them.

“Where’s Daniel?” CoriAnne asks.

“CoriAnne, grab these last couple of pots, hon, and follow Teal’c. I’ll clean up this table. Are you planning to set up food inside or out, Jack?”

Obediently CoriAnne picks up the last two flowers and trots after Teal’c.

“What time is it?” I glance at the stove clock and see its only 1:30. 

“Oh we’re a little early, I know. We thought you might need a hand getting things ready.” Paige collects a sponge from the sink and starts to wipe up Daniel’s confetti. 

“Don’t! . . . do that . . . Sorry.” I let go of her arm. “Daniel wants to keep that stuff.”

“He wants to keep this?” Paige holds up a sponge full of brightly colored sparkly dots.

“Yes.” I take the sponge from her and carefully brush it off into my hand, pull out a ziplock and empty my palm into the bag. “He’s something of pack rat. Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, just didn’t want you to throw it away. I can see him sitting here in the kitchen the rest of the afternoon picking it back out of the trash.” I brush as much of the rest of it off the table into the bag as possible before using the sponge to get the rest and clean the table at the same time. 

“Single minded, isn’t he?” Paige trills. “What else can I do to help?” She picks up the spatula, finishes the job of removing the cookies from the tray, and starts reloading the cookie sheets with dough. 

I suppose it’s nice of her to pitch in and start doing stuff . . . and the monologue continues with barely a pause for breath. She’s worse than Daniel hyped on his allergy meds. 

“How’s Daniel? CoriAnne said he seemed a little down both times she’s talked to him. Are the four of you planning to come to the circus with The Gang?” 

‘The Gang’ is our home school group. 

“Has this hospitalization wreaked havoc on your school schedule? I’d be happy to help get him back up to speed if you wanted to leave him with us for a couple of days while you’re at work. CoriAnne’s dying to have Daniel over. He could spend the night if you wanted to go out or something with Sam.”

“Whoa there, Mrspaige.” I take another leaf out of Teal’c’s book. “Carter and I work together.”

“Oh I know. And I know the Air Force . . .”

This time when I put up a hand she knows I mean it. “Please let me finish.” She actually has the grace to blush, so though I’m pissed, I will endeavor to be kind. “As I started to say, there’s nothing going on between Carter and me. We work together; all four of us.” I realize my mistake too late and for a long second, can’t think of any way to cover it. “There is a fourth team member who may come by for awhile later this afternoon.” 

Maybe I should throw Adler at her. Nah, he is still a member of SG-1 and we do stick together, no matter what. 

“We’ve been working together a long time now, which means we’re pretty comfortable around each other. In fact, I’d go so far as to say we’re pretty much each other’s family, so if you’re interpreting comfort level as having a ‘thing’ going on on the side – reinterpret.”

“Oh?” Paige does arch really well, “So then, you’re available?”

Oh crap. Out of the frying pan into the fire. “Paige, I’m forty-eight, more than twice your age and to be frank, I’m not attracted to teenagers anymore.”

She flirts a smile at me, accepting the backhanded compliment as her due. She’s old enough to enjoy being told she still looks like a teenager and far too young to be interested in an old goat like me. I’m tempted to tell her Teal’c’s real age while I’m at it, but that might be even more difficult to explain than why Carter and I seem to have such rapport. 

And then she lands the sucker punch, which shouldn’t blindside me the way it does.

“So then Sam and Teal’c aren’t a thing either?”

I wince; can’t help it. Good job, O’Neill, you waltzed her right down the garden path and then opened the damn gate for her.

“No,” I admit reluctantly, “Carter and Teal’c are not an item either. Carter has a boyfriend in Denver and Teal’c’s seeing someone he met on a trip out of the country. Have I covered all your areas of interest now?”

“Well, since you brought it up. Is the thing Teal’c’s got going with this Ishy person what you’d call serious?”

“You’d have to discuss that with Teal’c. One of the things we’ve learned over the years is we don’t talk about each other’s business with people outside the family.”

“Well, that’s admirable. I had noticed the bunch of you tend to stick together like glue. Is Janet coming this afternoon?”

I think there’s probably a compliment in there somewhere, I just can’t seem to pull it out right at the moment. “She and her daughter are on the way.” Where the hell are they? I could use a distraction about now. “Thanks for taking care of the rest of the cookies. I’m gonna go get the grill started.” 

I’m so outta here. I slide the glass doors closed on her still chattering obliviously away and turn to find Teal’c standing between the deck and the sandbox. 

“Nowhere to run,” the Jaffa intones solemnly, “nowhere to hide.”

“T, you been watching way too much TV Land.”

“Is it not appropriate, O’Neill?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m with ya, bud, I’m right there with ya.”

The glass doors behind me open again and CoriAnne comes through, dragging what looks like a reluctant Daniel. “. . . What’s the big deal about a sandbox? There’s a sandbox in the park, but only the sissy boys play in it.”

“I don’t have a sandbox,” Daniel says loftily, though this is the first I’ve heard about it not being a sandbox. “It’s an archeological dig,” he pronounces with satisfaction. 

I have to admit if you look at the sandbox now, it does resemble a dig. The day after his birthday party Daniel was out before breakfast, having scrounged a bunch of paint sticks out of the garage and asked to borrow my tape measure, measuring off grids and squares. When we got home from work he was out there again with a ball of string he’d conned from Siler, stringing the grids he’d measured off. 

He finished the bottom tier in about a month, though we occasionally try to sneak things in to surprise him. Especially Teal’c. He almost always brings something back to put in the sandbox when we go off world, along with whatever biology or chemistry lesson he brings home. Anyway, when Daniel was done with the bottom tier, he re-measured and restrung everything to the shape of the second tier. No shoddy workmanship acceptable here.

And the hand holding thing has reversed. It’s now Daniel dragging CoriAnne over to the sandbox. Excuse me, archeological dig.

“All those things on my dresser and the things on the shelves next to the quilt on the wall? They came out of my dig,” Daniel says proudly, handing over a small shovel, a brush and a scree pan. “Have you ever worked on a dig before?”

“I don’t dig,” CoriAnne responds, unenthused. “I quit making mud pies when I was three.”

“What are mud pies?” Daniel takes the shovel back and steps gingerly into the sandbox, working his way around the strings and paint sticks to the grid he’s been working on recently. “I’ve found some mud bricks in here already.” He points to a small pile of miniature bricks neatly stacked against the side of the sandbox. Daniel never was the neatest guy, not that he was messy precisely, just . . . okay . . . now that I think about it, adult Daniel was messy. 

On a dig, however, he is the epitome of a precision machine. No tools lying around, no mounds of dirt in odd places, no fossil pieces or scraps of pottery left out in the weather, everything in its place and a place for everything.

CoriAnne climbs in after him. “Kids in Egypt don’t make mud pies?” 

“Guess not.” Daniel’s already focused on his latest find. He’s abandoned the shovel for the brush and is diligently brushing away sand. Teal’c’s come up on the deck and taken a seat at the furthest end of the picnic table. I wonder briefly what happened to Carter. Paige must have cornered her. 

Sorry, I’m not brave enough to go in after her, there are some sacrifices no man should be required to make, and this rates right up there. Wish there was something I could do to cheer up Teal’c though. 

“Hey, anybody home? Did you know your front door’s unlocked?”

Oh for cryin’ out loud. These people have no concept of what it means to be fashionably late. It’s barely quarter of two and there’s suddenly a steady stream of folks pouring out onto the deck announcing that my front door’s unlocked. Do they all try the door before using the doorbell?

“How’s it going, Jack?” Athelia comes around the corner of the house pulling a little red wagon loaded with food and her toddler. Behind her, Coach and the cronies are bearing yet more food.

“Good grief, Athelia, were you expecting to feed the entire crowd?”

She grins and starts handing it up over the deck railing. “Got a second load to get out of the car. I like to cook, honey, my mamma taught me well. And you’re gonna have a lot of hungry people here this afternoon.”

“O-kay, but there’s not gonna be enough room on the picnic table for anybody else’s stuff.”

“Then we’ll put it on the benches,” she responds matter-of-factly. 

Obviously I’ve met my match. I shut up and load dishes on the table. Hot ones, cold ones, heavenly smelling ones. Geez! The woman must have been cooking since we saw her four days ago in the hospital.

In very short order, there is chaos in my backyard. I am instructed, by Paige and Athelia, to set up the video so it’s available for anyone who wants to watch the last two games. In the meantime, the food overflows the picnic table, the benches, and the kitchen table when it gets moved out. 

I loose track of all my compatriots, including Daniel, as I am embroiled in the mass of seething humanity that takes over my house and yard. 

The video only draws a small crowd. Coach, Mitchell, turns out he’s Dejon’s brother, the other cronies’ name is Kevin, and Tyler and Daniel for awhile, until Daniel hears someone shouting in the sandbox and has to go make sure his dig site is secure. 

It’s probably a good thing only a small crowd wants to watch, since I don’t think my living room could hold the fifty or so kids and adults who are here, unless we watched in shifts. 

We lost the final game, so there was no triumphal march with the trophy, but no one seems too bent out of shape about it. Before Daniel disappeared to the sandbox again, Coach was ribbing him that we lost because he wasn’t there Thursday night. 

I wander aimlessly back out onto the deck and notice that Daniel’s gotten out the water guns and sports glasses from his birthday party, but I don’t see him. Cassie’s in the thick of it, so Doc must be around somewhere. 

I make a mental note to be sure she checks Daniel before she leaves. Maybe if he’s doing really well Mallek won’t feel the need to ask him what he’s been doing. Or maybe we could be late for the appointment so she’s in a rush and she won’t ask him. Better yet, maybe I could coax Carter into taking him. 

Paige is stalking Teal’c’s merry band with a posse of her own, water guns blazing every so often to uninhibited shrieks of merriment. It looks to me like Teal’c doesn’t mind this kind of stalking and Paige is very obviously having a blast, but I don’t see Daniel in any of the battalions either, or Mallory.

Daniel was lugging her around last time I saw them. I made him put her down, she’s half as big as he is and I don’t want him giving himself a hernia around that newly healing scar.

The sandbox is empty when I check there. I suspect after the scuffle Daniel declared it off limits this afternoon. I was kind of hoping he would since I’ve already had to visit various houses around our neighborhood collecting artifacts he gave away to neighborhood kids who dug them up. 

For the first month after his birthday our backyard became the neighborhood playground. There was literally a waiting line to get into the sandbox to dig. It took me a few days to realize part of the draw was that Daniel was letting them take home anything they dug up. 

That one took some finessing. He couldn’t understand why I was fuming and I have to admit I was unfairly angry with him. It really wasn’t his fault; he was just being Daniel. In the first place, in his seven-year-old mind he has no conception of the worth of some of those artifacts, let alone the Enquirer value should someone discover many of them are of alien origin. I finally got the bright idea to ask him who the artifacts on his parent’s site belonged to, which gave him a bit of a pause. But then he insisted on paying anybody who came to dig. 

Fortunately, the neighborhood children will work for cookies and a trip to Costco neatly resolved our differences. Even more fortunately, Daniel knew exactly who had what, which made the rounding up of his priceless artifacts a little easier. And while I doubt, if we ever do get back adult Daniel, he’d have a problem with it, I don’t really want to be the one to tell him we let him give away many of his irreplaceable _objets d’art._

I still don’t see Daniel, but there’s Mallory trotting determinedly across the lawn calling Teal’c. 

“Teak! Wait! Stop, Teak,” she hollers, stumbling over something, possibly her own feet, in her hurry, sprawling face first in the grass. She’s still yelling as she scrambles back up. “Teak! Teak! I need you. My Danny needs you!”

Teal’c, with a glance over his shoulder, catches sight of Daniel’s little shadow and hands off his equipment to his 2IC, Tyler, with quick instructions and an affirming pat on the back. Motioning his crew on, he backtracks, striding toward Mallory who knows she’s been spotted and has poured on speed to meet him halfway. 

The second he lifts her up she’s jabbering at him and I see him nod solemnly. They’re far enough away I can’t hear her since she’s not yelling anymore, but Teal’c’s deep voice carries to me easily. 

“I will come with you at once, Missmallory.” Teal’c looks up, catches my eye, and nods toward the house. “Missmallory believes Danieljackson to be in distress, O’Neill.”

“He’s leaking,” Mallory informs us, from her secure perch on Teal’c’s massive arm. She has an arm around his neck and the other hand clutched in his t-shirt.

“Leaking what?” I’m instantly on the alert, looking for Frasier, thinking he must have been hurt. “Where is he, Mallory?”

“Inside.”

“In his room?”

“Uh huh. We don’t need you, Kernelyak, Teak can han’le it.”

“I believe Coloneljack would like to come anyway, Missmallory. He does not like to think of Danieljackson in pain.”

She eyes me for moment before bestowing her consent, though it comes with a twitching frown. “You can come.” She points commandingly towards the sliding glass door. “That way, Teak. Hurry.”

Teal’c is allowed to take point as I’m not in command of this operation. Mallory steers us to Daniel’s bedroom and sure enough, Daniel’s curled up on his bed, facing the wall. 

I don’t immediately see blood, so for the moment I’ll leave Frasier out of this.

Mallory demands to be put down and rushes over to climb up on the bed beside Daniel. She pats his back, crooning softly, “Don’t be sad, my Danny. I brought Teak to make it all bet’er.”

I hang back since I’m only here on sufferance. Mallory’s already done a sit rep and has the situation under control. As long as there’s no blood I can let her run this operation a little longer. 

Teal’c crouches beside the bed and puts an arm around both kids. I move so they’re all still in my line of sight. “What is the matter, Danieljackson?” he asks gently. “Mallory believes you to be in distress.”

“Nothing’s the matter. Go away, Mallory. I told you to leave me alone,” Daniel growls. 

Neither Teak nor Mallory seem remotely intimidated. 

“If nothing is the matter why are you not outside playing with your friends?”

“He’s sad ‘cause we didn’t win the to’fee,” Mallory imparts, bending over Daniel to pat his cheek. “See, Teak. He’s wet his face. He’s leaking.” She holds out her tiny, damp hand to Teal’c who examines it minutely before taking it and planting a kiss in the middle of her palm.

“Give that to Danieljackson, Missmallory, perhaps it will alleviate some of his discomfort and he will wish to resume his activities with us outside.”

Mallory inspects her palm, smiles brightly and raises her other hand for Teal’c to kiss too. “Two is bestest.”

Teal’c obligingly kisses her other palm and she grabs T’s shoulder and steps over Daniel to kneel in front of him. I watch her kiss her palms too and lean over him again and I’m guessing she’s cupped his face in both her hands because she says to him, “Here’s some kisses from me an Teak. All bet’er now?” 

“I don’t want kisses. Both of you go away. And tell Jack I don’t need him either.”

Okay, that hurts. But I have an idea what’s going on here. I wondered about it the first time I heard Coach jokingly tell Daniel they might have pulled out a win if he’d been with them. I push off the doorjamb and Teal’c moves back to give me room to perch on the edge of the bed. 

“Hey, Sport, can we talk about this for a minute?”

Mallory sits back on her ankles, big, fat sympathetic tears rolling down her cheeks. “I sad too, Kernalyak.”

“I can see. Come on, Daniel. You’re making Mallory sad now. Turn over so we can talk about this, please.” I rub his shoulder. “Come on buddy, I think maybe you misunderstood something Coach said to you.”

Mallory clambers back over Daniel and down off the bed. “Up,” she says to Teal’c, who picks her up obligingly. “Kernelyak will make it all bet’er,” she pronounces, nestling against Teal’c as she pops her thumb in her mouth.

“I told you not to get them, Mallory.”

“Missmallory does not like to see you in distress any more than we do, Danieljackson.”

He turns over reluctantly, using his shoulder to swipe at tears as he does so and I notice he’s got his chewing finger securely wrapped in his right hand. He tenses and jerks his hands back when I reach for them. 

“Daniel.” It took us awhile to learn this dance, but we’ve established this tone of voice gets obeyed instantly. 

He grudgingly lets me take his hand.

“Oh my God.” My stomach does a nauseating flip flop. His ring finger, above the first knuckle, is bloody pulp. “Teal’c, can you get us some ice.” I haul Daniel up into my lap and wrap my hand around his finger, applying pressure. “Buddy, Coach was teasing when he said they lost because you weren’t there. It’s not true, he was just joking.” 

While I’ve always known Daniel feels things more deeply than the rest of us mere mortals, I never understood, until this happened to us, how intensely he suffers. I suppose its part of what makes that internal moral compass of his so faithful to true north. 

I’m sure he fully believes he’s responsible for the team’s failure to win the trophy. And he’s chewed his finger raw he’s so anxious about it. 

He is such a child of the Universe, so open, so . . . exposed. 

I want to insulate him - wrap him up in cotton wool - teach him, somehow, to be wary of the ambushes life keeps setting in his path. But if I do, it’s tantamount to closing him off from the source that makes him what he is.

It’s taken me awhile to recognize I would rather stand over him with my P-90 and guard him for the rest of my natural life than change what is the essence of Daniel. 

In fact, it’s been something of a revelation, because I’ve spent seven of the last eight years trying hard to change him. I wanted an archeologist who was better at looking after himself than everybody else in the universe, a linguist whose first language was the one I spoke – military, I really didn’t give a damn about the Egyptologist, so long as he toed the line when I barked out orders. I expected him to conform to the rules and regs, required him to meet at least the minimum standards on the shooting range, and pushed him to learn enough to defend himself in hand to hand combat. And I pushed hard, knowing full well Daniel never does anything halfway, knowing that in the long run he would far exceed all my expectations. 

He did. And we lost him for a year because of my stupidity. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson. 

With any luck, this time it’s made it through my thick skull and will stick.

Daniel sniffs, wipes his cheek against my shirt and sniffs again, except the tears are coming faster now and he crawls up to bury his face in my neck. He’s got one arm anchored over my shoulder and I have the other arm half behind his back because I’m not letting go of that finger until we’ve got a pressure bandage and ice on it.

He says something through the hiccupping sobs, but it comes out as unintelligible garble. “Shhhh,” I pat his back as best I can, while trying to hold his finger and keep him from sliding back down in a heap in my lap. “It’s okay, Sport, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he says clearly. “Cori said it, an Michael and Micala. Tyler too.” A shudder works its way up from his toes. 

“Said what?”

“Even Mallory said it was my fault,” he sobs indignantly.

A silent Teal’c appears with a zip lock half filled with ice. He hands it over and inclines his head toward the bathroom across the hall so I know he’s going after medical supplies.

“Here, let’s get some ice on this finger.” He’s unresisting as I turn him around and nestle him in my lap so I can use both hands on his finger. “Oh, Daniel,” I sigh.

Teal’c reappears with the box of bandaids, a bottle of peroxide, a tube of triple antibiotic ointment, and Mallory still on his arm. “Should I locate Doctorfrasier, O’Neill?”

“You want Teal’c to get the Doc, Sport?”

“No.” Daniel turns his face back into my shirt as the tears overwhelm him again. “I don’t want anybody. Just leave me alone.” He tries a half-hearted wriggle off my lap, but the hand clenched in my shirt kinda nullifies the gesture. 

I wrap both arms around him, drawing his own arm across his chest so I can keep ice on that finger and hold him tight. He’s not gonna hear a word I say until he calms down, which at the rate we’re going, may not be for awhile yet. 

Teal’c raises a questioning eyebrow. I know he thinks we should probably get Frasier, but as much as possible I want to respect Daniel’s wishes. He has so little autonomy now it seems unfair to always be forcing him to do it our way. I shake my head slightly and make a motion toward the door. 

Teal’c nods in acquiescence.

Mallory, who’s had her head on his shoulder, starts to sit up. This is, after all, her operation, and I’m butting in. Teal’c touches a finger to his lips with a small shushing sound and gently presses her head back against his shoulder. Fortunately for all of us, she complies, and the two of them disappear out the door.

For several long minutes the only sound in Daniel’s room is his hitching sobs. And as I don’t want to stop this until he’s gotten it all out of his system, I just hold him and rock silently. Eventually the sobbing tapers off to sniffles, the sniffles to sighs and then on a really deep sigh the rest of the tension ebbs out of his body and he snuggles against me. 

There’s a difference. 

Before I was holding him; now he wants to be held.

“I don’t want to ever be sick again,” he sniffs. 

“It’s sure no fun,” I agree non-committally. I think I’m going to have to change my shirt before I go back outside. I probably have shiny snail trails of snot all over the front of me.

“I didn’t get sick on purpose and I’m not a chicken. I wanted to play.” And the tears start again. 

This time I do the shushing thing as we rock. The worst is over, though there’s more festering here than I originally thought. “Who said that?” I ask eventually, pretty certain I already know the answer.

“Tyler.” His finger twitches inside the little igloo wrapped around it. He needs to chew, but it’s going to be awhile before that finger sees the light of day. 

“Daniel,” I begin, as his finger twitches again. “You better try the other hand, Sport, this one’s going to be out of commission for a few days.” I sigh. Then sigh again. 

This parenting thing is hard. It takes a couple seconds to collect my thoughts. 

“First of all, you’re younger and . . . not quite as big as Tyler, but you’re a better player, so he’s just the teensiest bit jealous, okay?” 

This requires some careful handling. CoriAnne, who he hangs out with most, is a petite little thing too, and a few months younger than Daniel. So I don’t think Daniel’s realized yet how much smaller he is than most of the kids his age and I don’t really want to be the one pointing it out. Tyler is a year older and a head taller than Daniel.

“So?” 

Oh good. We’re moving right along here; we’ve made it to the petulant stage.

“So - because he’s jealous he wants to make you . . . feel bad.”

“Why?” 

Oh yes, see? Moving right along. Indignation is much better than petulance.

However, I sigh again. “Some people are just like that, Sport. They need to make other people feel bad in order to make themselves feel good.” I’m really thankful that kid is not part of our home school group. “Have you noticed Tyler also likes to be the center of attention all the time?”

Daniel thinks this over for a second. “Nuh uh.” He’s trying the pinkie on his right hand.

“Pay attention when we go back out –”

“I’m not going back out,” he interrupts, not aggressively, just matter-of-factly.

One thing at a time I tell myself, shoving that little problem to the background for now. “All right, when you are around him again, pay attention. He’s the loudest, most obnoxious, foul-mouthed kid I’ve come across in a long time and keep in mind we hang out with the Marines.” Though the Marines have toned down their language around Daniel, on Base at least.

“Oh,” he says now, thinking about it. 

“So he’s even more jealous that you’ve been the center of attention lately because you’ve been sick.”

“I didn’t want to be sick,” Daniel repeats

“I know that and so does everyone else.”

“Then how come Coach said it was my fault we didn’t win the trophy?”

“Wait.” I hold up a hand when he starts with his litany of woes. “I’m trying to remember exactly what Coach said. I was there and I heard what he said to you, so give me a second here, ‘cause I think what you heard and what he said were two different things.”

“He said if I’d been there we’d have won the trophy.”

“Now see, what I heard was if you’d been playing we might have been able to pull out a win.”

“What’s the difference?”

Okay, I admit there is a bit of a nuance in the difference, but Daniel is a very nuanced seven-year-old. He understands the distinction, he just needs a little more reassurance.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been sick . . . maybe if you’d been able to play . . . maybe if CoriAnne had gotten on base . . . maybe if Tyler hadn’t struck out every time he was up to bat . . . maybe if Michael had caught that fly ball he dropped . . . maybe if Micala hadn’t been thrown out at first every time she was up to bat . . . maybe if all those things had, or hadn’t happened, we might have won. That’s a lota maybes, huh?”

“Oh,” Daniel says, trying the middle finger. Apparently his pinkie and ring finger on his right hand don’t taste the same as the ring finger on his left hand.

“Oh?” I parrot, with only a slight tinge of sarcasm.

He raises both eyebrows innocently. “It wasn’t just me?”

“Want to go watch the last game again just to make sure?”

“No. I’m tired. Can I go to bed now?”

He has me for half a second, but then I get my bearings and call his bluff. “That’s fine, you can get into bed as soon as we’re done with this finger.”

There’s not even a whimper, though my stomach turns over again, as I pull the bloody ice pack off his finger. Teal’c’s provided a small cup I half fill with peroxide and turn on its side to stick his finger in. This rates a hiss and there are a few more tears by the time I’ve slathered antibiotic ointment on it and swathed it in bandaids. 

“This stuff is going to taste really nasty if you put your finger in your mouth anytime soon,” I warn. “Do you want to put something on that hand?”

“What?”

“Wait, I think I know just the thing.” I slide him off my lap onto the bed where he does his typical isopod impression, curling into a ball, and I go hunt up a pair of my winter gloves.

Yes, I do own gloves with fingers. The only time I wear full gloves handling a gun is when I’m purposely committing murder. “Here you go. One? Or two?”

He eyes them warily, but sits up and lets me pull the glove on over his bandaged finger, then holds up his hand to inspect it. “It hurts.”

“It’s going to for awhile, Sport. I’ll get you some aspirin. It won’t make the hurt go away completely, but it will dull the ache a little. You ready to go to bed now?”

“No, I don’t want to go to bed.”

“’What do you want to do?”

“Can’t I just stay in here until everybody leaves?”

“You could. But do you really want to?”

“No.”

“What do you want to do, Daniel?”

“I don’t know,” he says, as the tears start again, and I realize he really is tired. 

I’m gonna be in so much trouble with Mallek on Monday. Maybe Teal’c would take him to the appointment if I drive them over.

“Come here.” When he’s tired like this, he doesn’t mind being carried, even in company. I swing him up, his head immediately drops to my shoulder, and the right ring finger goes in his mouth. The gloved hand gets wrapped around the back of my neck, a sensation that feels vaguely familiar, except it’s usually my hand wrapped around the back of adult Daniel’s neck when I want his full and undivided attention. 

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. 

Daniel blinks at me and sucks his finger harder when I tilt my head to look down at him. 

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I shake it off and head back out of his room and up the hall to the kitchen where we can slide back into the sea of humanity that is my back yard without too much fan fare.

Carter and Frasier are guarding the back door. Teal’c’s commandeered one of the Adirondack chairs and Mallory is asleep, drooling on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Everything okay?” Frasier asks, as we step out on the deck. She closes the door behind us and reaches up to ruffle Daniel’s hair. “You okay, Sport?”

“It hurts,” he says, scowling.

“What hurts?” Both Carter and the Doc are all over him like fleas on a dog.

“My finger.” He sits up and holds up his hand. “Jack put a glove on it so I won’t taste the nasty stuff he put on it.”

“What happened to your finger?” Doc wants to know. “Did you pinch it?”

“Teal’c didn’t tell you?” Daniel asks suspiciously.

“I did not, Danieljackson,” Teal’c rumbles, sounding like distant thunder.

Daniel’s head goes back down on my shoulder. 

Janet leans around to look at me. “Anything I should know about?”

“It’s nothing serious, Doc. We’re just doing the MJ thing with the glove.”

“MJ?” Frasier asks.

“Yeah, you know, the one-glove, I’m bad, boy?”

“Ahh . . .” Doc nods.

“Will you come and sit with me, Daniel?” Carter asks, holding out her hands.

He hesitates, then shakes his head, burrowing under my chin. 

“He’s really tired, Major.”

“You are?” Carter feigns surprise. “You mean all that running around like a wild Indian wore you out?” She pats his back.

“Wasn’t running around,” Daniel mutters on another sniff. 

Although he hauled out all the water gun paraphernalia, I don’t think he got involved in the game at all. He just doesn’t have the energy for that kind of thing yet.

“Want something to eat?” I ask, snagging the second Adirondack chair.

“No.”

“Okay.” 

“Hey, Daniel.” Cassie comes up the shallow steps and drops down to sit at her mother’s feet. “You okay?” She leans back on her hands, rubbing against Janet’s leg like a cat - all sinuous grace and feminine charm.

“Who won?” Daniel ignores her question, but shifts to my other shoulder so he can have a conversation with her.

Cassie grins up at him. “Everybody who got wet.” She plucks at her soaked t-shirt. “How come you didn’t come and play with us?”

Daniel shrugs. “I didn’t want to get wet.”

“You ready to go, Sweet Pea?” Janet asks. “Do we need to get you home to finish homework?”

Cassie shrugs. “I should probably do some studying tonight, but really, Mom, if I don’t know the material now I’m not going to by tomorrow. Can’t we stay a little longer?”

“Exams already?” Carter exclaims.

“No, just a Physics test. I should probably go back tonight though, so I have time to cram in the morning before class.”

Athelia sweeps up on the deck, does an instant sit rep and starts rounding up crews to begin clean-up. Smart woman that she is, she delegates all the work and comes to perch on the arm of our chair while she oversees the details. Now here’s a power house I should be recruiting for the Air Force.

I don’t have to lift a finger. Even better, neither do Carter, Teal’c or the Doc. Kinda nice to get the royal treatment in your own home. 

Cassie pitches in without complaint and in very short order our back yard and kitchen look better than they did before we were inundated this afternoon.

Mallory’s dad comes to claim her, towing a reluctant Tyler in his wake. Mallory waves a sleepy bye bye to her Danny and blows him a kiss before her eyes close again as she settles on her father’s shoulder. “Love ‘ou, Danny,” she adds drowsily.

“Teal’c, you’re a natural,” Paige twitters, setting my teeth on edge, though I have to agree with her. “Athelia, anything else we can do before we go? I have to work tonight,” she imparts disgustedly. 

“Think we’re fine here, honey. Paige, what is it you do?”

“Oh, I’m a waitress.”

Read exotic dancer. 

I had Carter do a background check on her. Okay, I had Carter do background checks on all our home school crew - one of the more useful privileges of our security clearances. 

Paige is putting a roof over their heads and food on the table by herself. How she does it is none of our business as long as it’s not endangering my kid. 

“Gotta run,” she says as the deck begins to overflow with adults collecting kids and dishes, not necessarily in that order. “We’ll see you guys,” she sweeps the SGC crew with hugs and air kisses, “shortly. And you guys,” Athelia and Coach get the same treatment, “next year, hopefully.”

“Count on it, sister,” Athelia hugs her back. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Night everybody. Come on, CoriAnne, I’m late already.”

The yard empties out surprisingly fast after that. Within fifteen minutes only Dijon, Athelia and their two are left.

“What’d you do to your hand, boy?” Athelia, still perched on the arm of our chair, hands off their toddler to Coach and bends gracefully to give Daniel a hug and a kiss.

“Do you have a jealous husband?” I inquire, giving her a casual squeeze as she hugs and kisses me too.

She rolls her eyes. “That man don’t know nothing, honey. He’s as clueless as they come.”

“Divorce him and marry me. I appreciate everything about you, ‘specially your cooking.”

She laughs as I leer suggestively over the top of Daniel’s head. “What’d you do to your hand, Danny?” she asks again, stroking a hand through his hair.

“Nothin’,” Daniel slurs on a sigh. “Just my fin’er.”

“Your finger? What did you do to your finger?”

He stirs against me restlessly, turns his head away from her and whispers, “Chewed it.”

She looks to me, mystified. “What?”

I shake my head slightly and she lets it drop, swooping down to kiss the top of Daniel’s head again. “Okay then. You take care, ya hear? You’ve got our e-mail, Jack, stay in touch. Dijon likes to keep up with his team during the school year. What grade are you going to be in this year, Danny?”

“We’re home schooling,” I put in, before Daniel can answer. “He’s not really in a grade per se, we’re just getting started.” Which is a blatant lie as he’s already more than half way through what he needs to do for ninth grade.

“You ready yet, Thei?” Dijon inquires impatiently. 

Cassie and Mo, short for Molina, have been playing Mo’s Gameboy for the last half hour.

“I’m ready. Where’s . . . oh there you are, girl. You ready to go, Your Highness?”

“Mom!” Mo rolls her eyes at her mother, must be a universal kid thing. “I’ve been ready.”

“Then get your brother in that wagon and move on out, sister.” Athelia looks around with satisfaction. “Good, looks like we got everything.” She shifts off our chair arm with a wink. “Great party, Jack, hope you invite us again.”

“I don’t know, it was a lotta work.” I heave a dramatic sigh. “I’m exhausted just thinking about doing this again.” I stand up, shifting Daniel back to my right arm. “Thanks, this was great and I really couldn’t have done it this quickly without your pulling it together. So thanks for jumping in and bailing me out when I opened my big mouth.”

“Thei,” Dijon barks, as she leans up to kiss me again, this time smack on the lips. “I think in the military they call what you’re doing to him harassment, babe. Quit embarrassing the poor man. Come on!”

“Sorry, Colonel,” Athelia laughs as she gives Carter and Doc a quick hug. “He’s just so delicious to look at, don’t ya think, gals, with those big brown eyes and that luscious, luscious hair?” 

Okay, maybe it’s not a universal kid thing; I find myself rolling my eyes at her as well.

“And you –” she says, growling at Teal’c, “are in a gene pool all by yourself, baby.” She hugs him as well. “Promise we’ll see ya’ll next year, if not before.”

“Oh absolutely,” Carter says, “if we’re all still here. Military, you know. They tend to move us around a lot. But we’ll certainly catch up with you next summer if we are still here.”

It’s the cover story we came up with incase Daniel should get changed back into his adult self. And we’ve tried to pick venues that aren’t necessarily convenient for us now but will make it less likely for us to run into any of these people accidentally if in the future we have an adult Daniel in tow.

“Night, Coach, Athelia. Bye Mo, bye Timmy.”

“Good night Jack, night Daniel.”

Oh for cryin’ out loud, here we go again with the Walton’s routine. It’s something that got started at the ball games and hard as I try, I can’t seem to shake it.

Frankly, I think Carter gets a kick out of it. She’s usually the instigator when it happens around here.

It’s only 7:00 o’clock. We’ve got another couple hours of daylight left yet and the five adults remaining on the deck trade glances. 

“Anybody up for pizza?” I offer.

“You must be joking.” Doc gives me the evil eye. “After all that food? I don’t think I’ll have to eat again ‘til Monday.” She slides off her perch on the railing. “Did you want me to . . .” she slants a glance toward my space monkey who’s watching her as he chews on his other finger. “Cause we need to go if Cassie’s going back to the Academy tonight.”

I’m thinking after today’s trauma, the less poking and prodding the better, and since it’s really only to make me feel better I should just skip it. “Nah. I’m sure we’re fine. It was just a passing concern.”

Carter has the nerve to chuckle. “A passing concern that Mallek’s gonna strip a piece of skin off when she finds out about this shindig today.”

“Who’s Mallek?” Daniel wants to know. 

“Mallek is Doctor Chelly’s last name, Daniel.” Janet runs a practiced eye over my kid. “He looks fine, Colonel. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Who? Me?”

Janet leans over to kiss Daniel. “Yes, you, Mr. Busybody. Jack wanted me to look at your appendix scar, make sure everything’s healing up the way it should.”

Before I realize what he’s doing, he’s shoved back against my arm and pulled his shirt up. “Does it look okay?” 

With a glance at me, Doc peels back the clear adhesive bandage over the incision site and makes a thorough inspection of the wound. “Looks good,” she says, smoothing the sticky stuff back down and helping Daniel readjust his shirt. “I think Dr. Mallek will be pleased with your progress. How are you feeling, Squirt? Tired tonight?”

“A little,” he admits, chewing a little harder on that finger. 

“Are you eating better?”

He shrugs and Janet looks to me for confirmation.

“Better than he was, still not great though.”

“Then stay with the Ensure. At least it gives him all the essential vitamins and minerals which is really important in the healing process. Okay, Daniel? Fruits and vegetables would be better, but if you’re just not hungry, at least keep drinking the Ensure.”

“Is there anything else we could try? He really doesn’t like that stuff.” Can’t blame him, it tastes like sludge from the bottom of the toilet tank as far as I’m concerned.

“You could try Nouriche or one of the other fortified yogurt drinks, I suppose. They probably have just as many calories and as long as they’ve got the added vitamins and minerals it doesn’t really matter where he’s getting the calories.”

“Good, we’ll try it.”

“Okay. See you all on Monday. You ready, Bug?”

“I suppose. Thanks, Uncle Jack, for inviting me. I’m glad I came.”

“You’re expected at family gatherings, kiddo. Don’t imagine you can start ducking out just because you’re in the Academy now. Good luck on that test tomorrow.”

More hugs and kisses are exchanged and in very short order it’s just SG-1 occupying deck space.

“I never saw Mark this afternoon. Did he come by?”

“I never saw him either,” I yawn, surprised to find I’m tired too. “I think there’s a ball game on ESPN.”

This non-sequitur is met with supreme indifference from all sides. Guess no one’s interested in the ball game.

“Let’s go watch a movie,” Daniel says.

“Ahh, Daniel, I’m about movied out, Sport.”

“Come on.” Carter stretches as she gets up. “I’m up for a movie. What do you want to watch?”

“Star Wars!” Daniel slides off my lap, landing on the deck as lightly as a cat. He takes Carter’s hand and looks over his shoulder at Teal’c. “You coming, T?” 

“Are we prepared to view all three films this evening?” Teal’c deserts me too, in favor of his fifteenth viewing of the Star Wars saga.

I stretch out my legs, slide down until I’m comfortably ensconced in the chair and enjoy the mellow feel of the early evening sun still warming the backyard with its rays. From inside the house I hear the opening bars of the Star Wars theme and I find myself humming along.

Dhun, dhun, dah dah da dhun, dhun, dah da da dhun, dhun, dah dah da dah … 

Gonna have to come up with something to keep him occupied next week. I suspect he’s going to be a little harder to entertain when he actually begins to feel better. And I really don’t want him working on school work until he’s completely well.

We’re going to try work on Monday, at least half a day, just to see how it goes. I can always put him down for a nap on the sofa in his office. 

We debated putting the temporary new head of archeology into Daniel’s office, but finally decided against it. 

Since we don’t know from one day to the next when this thing might reverse itself, we figured in the long run it was just easier to leave his office intact. Packing up all that shit and storing it again? Might as well call his office a store room and turn the would-be store room into a new office for Dr. Johnston Ram. It was a hell of a lot easier. And should Daniel suddenly revert to a 40-year-old archeologist, we can pick up where we left off without any more interruptions.

I don’t know though. The longer this goes, the less I think it’s gonna happen overnight. The only intergalactic folks we haven’t approached about changing him back have been the Goa’uld - who actually might be able to help us since it is their stolen technology that did this in the first place. 

If there was even the slightest chance we could trust them, I wouldn’t hesitate to approach Yu, or even Nerti, if we could track her down. As the oldest System Lord, Yu might have some knowledge of the device. And if not, Nerti’s been experimenting with DNA for who knows how many hundreds of years. 

But I don’t trust either of them, so it’s a moot point.

Nor have any of our own scientists, Carter included, had any luck with the Telchak device. Carter tells me they’re learning more about it all the time, just nothing that’s shed any light on Daniel’s situation.

And the little bit of info that makes it to us out of Honduras’s isn’t anymore promising. Our contact, Officer Gonzalez, reports no significant changes in any of the subjects, himself included. Which is another reason I’m a little antsy about this whole deal. 

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s only been six months, but six months is a long time when you’re wondering every day, will it be today? 

I suppose I’ve begun to relax a little. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t . . . well then, we get on with our lives as is and be thankful the damn device didn’t kill him outright. 

Eventually Daniel will be forty again. 

If it takes another thirty-three years, I’ll be eighty-one. I wish I’d been with him when this happened. Although I doubt they’d have let me keep him if I’d reverted to a fifteen-year-old. 

Ah well . . . one day at time. 

I don’t really need more than that. I’m thoroughly enjoying being a dad again – even if it is only for one day at a time.

 

~*~


End file.
